Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The phone beeps from the back pocket of my jeans, and my heart speeds up just a touch. I ignore it because it annoys me how my heart reacts every time it beeps or rings. I want to kick myself every single time because I’m expecting it to be him, but when it’s not, my heart twinges just a little. Then I want to kick myself again because I’ve been here, and I’ve done that already. It took me a long time to get over Romeo Beckett, especially since I had no one to talk to about it.
I look down at the phone and see that it’s Abigail, and she sent the messages within seconds.
Where are you?
Are you not coming?
I’m bringing P down to see Tristan.
I think about answering her but the elevator doors open, so I don’t bother. I walk out and turn left, walking toward the corner suite the family has. It sits right next to the owner’s suite, usually they just have the wall between them taken down to give everyone more space. There is also a security guard outside of the two big brown doors. “Hi there,” I say as one of them opens the door for me. “Thank you,” I add, stepping in and I see the array of people.
The whole room has couches against two walls. Against the side wall is a counter with two fridges under them, one stocked with soda and the other with beer. The top of the counter has baskets of chips and snacks. There is a long bar at the front of the room that gives you a view of the ice. There are stools to sit down at the bar as well as four rows of chairs that lead out of the suite.
I look around the room and see there is a server who is walking around asking if anyone needs anything.
My uncle Max is the one who turns his head toward the door. “There she is.” He smiles at me, and my uncle Matthew, who is sitting next to him, looks up and smiles at me also. These two started off as enemies and then Uncle Max and Auntie Allison eloped. From what the story is, it caused some drama, but then the two of them became thick as thieves. Now if one isn’t with the other one, it’s like they are missing a limb.
“Here I am.” I dump my bag on the couch next to a couple other bags. “You know what they say, better late than never.” I walk over to them and kiss their cheeks.
“Abigail was asking about you,” Aunt Allison says from behind me. I turn to see her holding Franny’s little girl, Stella. I bend and kiss her cheek and then squish my nose up when I see Stella, who just smiles at me. “You look great,” my aunt compliments me, smiling as she takes in my outfit of blue jeans, frayed at the knees, that I paired with a white knitted sweater I tucked in on one side. The sleeves are pulled up showing off the silver Rolex watch my parents gave me when I graduated from the university.
“Thank you,” I reply to her. “Do you want me to take her down there?” I motion with my head. Allison just looks at Stella. "Do you want to go see your dad?” I ask, holding out my arms and she flies into them. “Well then,” I say, kissing her soft hair, “let’s go see your dad.” I turn and walk out of the suite to the door that slides open so we can walk down the stairs toward the ice.
“Daddy,” Stella says, pointing at the ice where the Dallas players are in their green jerseys. I spot Abigail with Penelope at the glass right next to Erika, who is there with Emma, Mia, and Parker, who all jump when Dylan throws a couple of pucks over the glass. Michael comes over and shoves him, making Bailey and Bianca, his twin girls, jump up and call his name.
“Hello, ladies,” I say when I get close enough to the glass and then knock on the glass so Michael looks over at me. “Get her father over here.” I motion with my head. Michael yells for Wilson, who looks at him, and then turns to look where I am, his entire face fills with a smile when he sees Stella. He skates over as I stand her on the edge of the rink. She squeals and claps her hands as she sees Wilson in front of her. She moves her head to kiss the glass, and I see a couple of people taking the picture. “Is that your dad?” I point at the glass, and she just repeats dada over and over again.
The horn blares as the guys now skate back over to their bench. “Say bye to Daddy,” I urge, and she waves at him. I wait for the kids to walk up before I head back up, giving a second glance over my shoulder to make sure we didn’t forget anyone. There has been a time or two that one has escaped, but luckily, they all wear their dad’s jersey.